


Mean Legion

by TheViperQueen



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Crack, Gen, Is butter a carb?, Mean Girls References, also the title is tits but oh well, da fuq am i even doing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-04-10 07:18:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4382432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheViperQueen/pseuds/TheViperQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Courier hears the legend of the Burn Man as it has never been told before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mean Legion

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been awake for 26 hours and I no longer know what I am doing with my life.

Bastian, or the man formerly known as Courier Six, resisted the urge to shift from foot to foot as he waited to be summoned into his Lord’s personal tent. He wasn’t a fidgety person, no Legionnaire was, but this thing in his possession was almost enough to make him pick up the habit. Not for the first time since discovering what he carried Bastian wished that he wasn’t a Centurion. If there was somebody else above him he could pass this duty off to them. Hell if he answered to somebody else he wouldn’t even _be_ in this position. Though the thought of giving Caesar potentially upsetting news was mildly terrifying it wasn't worth losing position over. Being such a high ranking officer in the Legion meant that he was given leave to carry out his orders in any way he saw fit. There was no asking if he could and no measure was too extreme; if his Lord said he wanted it done then it was to be done. It was this way before they had taken the Dam and doubly so since it had come under their control. 

The Legion’s victory at Hoover Dam had put the Mojave firmly in their grasp, but it wasn’t enough for Caesar. No, he wouldn’t be satisfied until the Bull had trampled the Bear completely under its hoof. The man was determined to take the fight right to the Republic’s doorstep, but he was no fool. He knew that they would need more bodies in their ranks if they were to seize the West and that meant that it was time for more ‘recruitment’. Bastian had spent the last six months bringing more tribes from the east into the fold and whipping them into fighting shape.  For the most part everything had gone according to plan; Utah’s tribes were as hardy as his Lord said they would be and, after some _persuasion_ , they were more than willing to join forces with them. He had had nothing but glad tidings to bring back to his Lord and it would have stayed that way had his cursed curiosity not gotten the better of him.

In their vying for his favor, the Wind Runners had taken to giving Bastian many gifts. Most of them he deemed useless and the leather bound book with the faded gold cross was no exception. He had no use for archaic religious texts even before joining the Legion. And so the thing sat gathering dust in his tent, and later his traveling pack, for weeks. It wasn’t until they were halfway to Flagstaff that he actually bothered with opening the thing. There was nothing extraordinary about the well-worn pages within it unless one knew what they were looking at. The name that graced the title page was written in a script that was so bold and clear that they couldn’t be mistaken for anything else. Those twelve letters had haunted him from the time he read them up until this very moment.

He wondered just how much trouble his discovery was going to cause them all. He’d thought about burning it, but the idea was dismissed immediately. Doing so would only serve to raise suspicions. It would also be a show of cowardice, something that befitted no Legion man, especially a Centurion.  So instead he turned his thoughts to finding a way of breaking the news to Caesar. After weeks of contemplation he realized that there was no good way to tell his Lord that his nemesis might very well still be among the living. Being totally honest was the only way he could see himself making it through their meeting mostly unscathed. It is with that knowledge in mind that he began his report when he was finally allowed entrance.

“My Lord,” he started after he had given his assessment of the newly absorbed tribes, “there is something else that I need to tell you. Something important.”

The man raised one light eyebrow at him. “And that would be…?”

Bastian knew that showing any signs of weakness now could mean his doom so he pulled himself up to his full height and pushed his shoulder back before continuing. “Well, my Lord the rumors about the former Malpais Legate may have a note of truth to them if this is anything to go by,” he pulled out the Bible that had up until that point lay tucked away in the bag that lay against his hip. “It seems as if he may yet live.”

The older man rose from his throne faster than anyone had seen him move in the past few years. He crossed over to Bastian, snatched the book from his hands and opened the cover. As soon as his eyes passed over the name he snapped the book shut. “The rest of you, get out,” he said, voice all ice as he addressed his attending Centurions. “I said _‘out’!_ " he yelled when they didn’t immediately move. Once the two men had left Caesar sunk back down into his seat. “That fucker just doesn’t know when to die, does he?” He gripped the black book until his knuckles were white.

After heaving a long sigh Caesar spoke again. “I’m sure you’ve heard the legends of the Burned Man.” The Centurion nodded. “I don’t usually talk about that bastard to anyone, but you’ve earned the full story I think.” Unsure of what to say Bastian remained quiet. “Let me tell you something about Joshua Graham,” he started in a tone that made Bastian furrow his brows in confusion; the term ‘school girl’ came to mind, though he wasn’t entirely sure why. “We were best friends back when I was still with the Followers. I _know_ , right?” he said when the Centurion’s eyebrows rose. It wasn’t their past camaraderie that shocked the younger man, but he wasn’t about to correct his Lord.

Caesar closed his eyes as he shook his head dismissively. “It’s embarrassing. I don’t even… Whatever. So then back in 2250 I established my capital here in Flagstaff, but I still wanted to keep conquering stuff and expanding my territory, and Graham got weirdly defensive. Like if I missed a meeting with him to go and take down a tribe he’d be all like ‘Why did you blow me off?’ and ‘This meeting is important, we need to talk about allotting resources' and 'blah-blah-blah’.” With each ‘blah’ he waved his hand for emphasis. At this point Bastian was seriously wondering if the man was suffering from another brain tumor. He would have to make a discreet inquiry with the blond doctor later.

“And I’d be like ‘Why are you so obsessed with how I manage my time and resources?’” he continued none the wiser of his underling’s concerns. “So then when I tried to take the Dam for the first time I let Graham lead and he failed. Like way hard. We totally had to call in a full retreat. And I was like ‘Graham I can’t let you live after that.’ I mean like I had to set an example. The Legion was looking to me for strength and guidance after that defeat. And he had just lost us the Dam! _The. Dam._ ” He leaned forward as if that would somehow add more gravity to his sentence. “So naturally I had him covered in pitch, lit on fire, and tossed into the Grand Canyon. It was so brutal.” His causal tone would have disturbed a lesser man, but as it stood Bastian did little more than blink.

His Lord leaned back in his throne before he sighed again. “We all thought he was dead, but then he supposedly came back as the Burned Man, and he like was wrapped up in all of these bandages, and was totally angst-y and now I guess he loves Jesus,” he ended with a shrug.

“That’s… quite a story, my Lord,” Bastian said once he was sure the man was finished.

“And every word of it true, unfortunately.” This sentence was said in Caesar's normal voice much to the younger man’s relief. “I only tell you this Bastian because I want you to know that failure is not an option. I don’t give second chances and any weakness I find will be weeded out. It doesn’t matter if you’re a Legate or the lowliest servant.”

Bastian dipped his head. “I understand, my Lord.”

“Good. Now go and get some rest, you look dead on your feet.”

The man gave a bow before turning on his heel and leaving the tent.

**Author's Note:**

> This is- idk wtf this is but at least I'm writing again. Yup. Lol.
> 
> As you can probably tell I totally ran out of steam at the end there, but I honestly couldn't think of a better way to end it. Maybe after I've had some sleep I'll go back and edit it...


End file.
